


The Best Little Secrets Are Kept

by fid_gin



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:59:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3784132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fid_gin/pseuds/fid_gin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Milkshake milkshake I love to feel you sweat</i>
  <br/>
  <i>We don't have to go to the pool</i>
  <br/>
  <i>if you want me to make you wet</i>
  <br/>
  <i>But can you keep a secret</i>
  <br/>
  <i>'cause the best little secrets are kept</i>
  <br/>
  <i>And you're my best little secret yet</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Little Secrets Are Kept

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I listen to too much Louis XIV. Takes place, presumably, between S3 and 4. A little sexy-violence play, but nothing non-con.

It's wrong, and Daryl knows it, and he doesn't care. Much.

Lazy Georgia afternoons at the prison, as lazy as life can be these days with the guns and the knives and the moaning dead people just outside the fences, he looks for a sign that he knows is coming. It's a system they worked out, one that no one else will recognize: Daryl goes out into the yard for a smoke (they have a different system for if she wants it first), blows a series of smoke rings into the air like little concentric hula hoops until Beth comes over and takes the cigarette from him, takes one drag and then crushes it out on the ground before walking off.

That's how they know.

After that, it's any time within the next hour that Daryl will find some reason to excuse himself to deep within the prison – medical supplies, checking the cafeteria for any leftover food, ammo search, target practice...his reasons become steadily dumber as time goes on, but no one really questions why Daryl Dixon does anything he does. He's not sure if Beth gets more shit than he does about going off alone. He doesn't really care.

He kills any walkers he comes across – even after all this time, he still finds a straggler now and then – takes a different way each time. They don't really have a set meeting place, they just wander until one of them finds the other, and it's always a sneak attack which pisses Daryl off to no end because he _told_ her he'll accidentally shoot an arrow through her cheek one of these days. She'd just laughed.

A sneak attack, and whomever is the attackee always puts up an honest-to-God fight – Beth because he usually surprises and scares the hell out of her, Daryl because he knows how fucked up this is: she's got a boyfriend, and a father that he respects, and he's not quite sure how old she is but it's too young for him anyway. They roll around and they pin each other and fight and kick and he covers her mouth and she bites his fingers...that's part of it, too.

Then, it's a game: who will say 'Stop' first? Because neither of them will, that's what makes it interesting. He unbuckles his belt. She unzips her pants, pulls down her shirt and bares one tiny, pale pink little nipple. He pulls her head back by her hair and kisses her neck, uses his teeth. She cups him between his legs, rubs his erection, turns and wiggles back against him so that his hard-on falls right against her ass-crack and breathes out something about how they shoudn't do this, Zach might find them. Daryl says something like she'd like that wouldn't she, bends her forward at the waist so that her palms rest against the wall and tugs her jeans down over her hips and fucks her hard like she begs him to.

A new game: who will make a _sound_ first? He fits inside her so damn good and he leaves red handprints on her hips where he grips her, pulls her back onto him just as she pushes back to meet him, both of their mouths open but not a sound except hot breath and their feet sliding across the cement floor. Cry out first and you lose; the last time Beth lost and she'd paid the price, and he'd eaten her pussy till she'd come four times and was begging him to stop already.

It wasn't like this the first time. He remembers, almost wistfully, how they'd bumped into each other on a late night walk when neither of them could sleep. How they'd spoken briefly, quietly: how she'd admitted she was still afraid the Governor might attack again – couldn't sleep sometimes because of it – and how, after a minute, he'd answered “Me too.” How she'd kissed him, almost like she just wanted to see what would happen, and how he'd shocked himself by kissing her back. Tentative fumbling in the dark, her soft skin, the _heat_ of her...he remembers these things as they violently rut, now, and almost wishes it could be like that again.

 _Why don't you ask her if she wants a cuddle, little brother?_ Merle's voice taunts him in his head. _She's got a boyfriend to hold hands and pick flowers with, you think that's what she wants from you?_

It isn't, and he knows that. And he's lonely even when he's surrounded by people, he's broken by the loss of his brother and a failure for being unable to find the asshole who killed him, and this helps. So he gives it to her, and he takes it from her, and it's their secret. It's his secret alone how much he looks forward to these moments.

After, they pull on what little clothes they shed and part ways with few words, knowing that they'll meet again like this in a day, or two days, or next week. Daryl goes outside, finds the crushed cigarette butt on the ground and relights it, smokes thoughtfully.

Zach's a good kid, and Daryl'd die for him just like he'd die for anyone else in their group. But sometimes, he wonders what it would have been like to know Beth in the world before all this. To talk with her, know her hopes and fears and dreams, to understand what she gets from all this and what she sees in a redneck loser like him.

 _Shit, man,_ another voice in his head snarls – one which echoes the sentiments of his brother's, but which sounds suspiciously like Shane. _Girl like that? Would run as 'bout as far away as possible from a freak like you, if all this wasn't happenin'. Even now, if it were just you two, she'd probably run off the first chance she got...throw her lot in with someone who don't wear body parts for jewelery. Be thankful for what you got: a roof over your head, and a sweet piece of ass on the side._

It's true, and he knows it, and being alone with Beth would mean everyone else being gone and he ain't okay with that. But even a man like Daryl Dixon, and even in a world like this one, can wonder what life would be like If Things Were Different, and so that's what he does for a few precious moments until he realizes the cigarette has burned down to the butt. Tossing it to the ground, he shoulders his crossbow and goes to see if they need help on the fence.


End file.
